


White

by Soozen



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26096590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soozen/pseuds/Soozen
Summary: Ozai is dead, and she is supposed to wear white. White is the absence of life. White is for mourning.Ozai does not deserve white.
Relationships: Azula & Ty Lee (Avatar)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	White

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: past abuse, discussion of death, panic attacks, in case you missed it in the tags.

Ozai is dead.

Azula stares down at the white robes that the servants had laid out upon her bed. They had been ready to dress her- the funeral is to start within the hour- but Azula had snapped at them to leave her. Now, it is only her and Ty Lee and those stark white robes in the room.

Ozai is dead, and she is supposed to wear white.

White is the absence of life. White is for mourning.

Ty Lee stands only a few feet away, already dressed. White looks horrible on her. It is a terrible color, Azula has decided. And Ty Lee wears white, not because she loved and misses Ozai, but because it is expected. It is unthinkable for any Fire Nation citizen to wear anything but white the day a Fire Lord is returned to the flame.

To Azula, though, Ozai is not simply a man who was Fire Lord. He is her father. He raised her. So she should mourn him, she should wear white.

But the thought of donning such a respectful color for Ozai makes Azula freeze, her mind clouded like those days shortly after the Agni Kai with Zuko, when chaos ruled her and it was difficult to sort reality from insanity. Ozai does not deserve white. His crimes are innumerable. The whole world knows of the cruelty he dealt to Zuko; burning him, banishing him. Azula knows more beyond that, of how he would belittle his son, criticize him, telling him he was not worth the space he took up.

She knows that he was ready to kill Zuko just to ensure his seat on the throne.

But Zuko wears white. She knows he will not break from tradition. He has not spoken to her of the plans from the funeral, but she knows it will be same as their grandfather’s. The public outcry of shaming a Fire Lord could be severe.

She wonders if he struggled the way she is.

The country expects her to mourn. She is Ozai’s favored child, after all. The golden daughter, the prodigy, the one he kept close and gave praise to. It is expected that she is be heartbroken, devastated at his death.

They do not know how she cackled at the news.

The nation only knows what Ozai allowed them to see: the perfect depiction of his strength and glory, the child he formed in his image. That is how it will stay. The thought of strangers, of all the men and women of her homeland knowing how it had been behind closed doors fills Azula with dread. So none will know, none but those closest to her, of the way he pushed her and pushed her, the way he made her believe that the demands of perfection were the same as love, how afraid she was to ever speak out against him. No one can know how he filled her mind with lies, conditioning her and molding her into the cold creature she had once been.

Even now, years later, rehabilitated and far from any harm that Ozai could ever inflict, she still struggles to be seen as weak.

Azula stares at the white robes of mourning and wants to burn them. Ozai does not deserve white.

She sees Ty Lee shift, taking a step closer. When she speaks, her voice is so gentle. “Do you want me to help you get dressed?”

Azula doesn’t answer. How can she. The thought of wearing white for her piece of shit father disgusts her. The thought of breaking protocol and causing a stir for refusing to mourn for the father that delighted in her willingness to follow him makes her uneasy.

Limbo. She is trapped in limbo.

“Whatever you’re feeling, Azula, it’s okay.”

She exhales through her nose. “What am I feeling?”

The question is not necessarily directed at Ty Lee. There’s too much going on, too much contradiction.

“I don’t know,” Ty Lee responds, and for once, Azula is eased that she is sparing her devotional language. It’s not what is needed right now. “You might be a little…relieved. A little happy. And maybe a little sad, too.”

“I’m not sad for my father.”

Azula knows that much. Any sadness she feels does not stem from the fact that Ozai had drawn his last breath, that he is gone from this world, that he cannot inflict anything further upon her or upon Zuko.

There is…regret, instead. Regret that her relationship with him had been what it was. If there is anything she is sad about today, it is that there is now no possibility of ever knowing what it is like to be loved by a parent. That will never be fulfilled. She is mourning the relationship that never could be, of the childhood that had been stolen from her.

Ozai doesn’t deserve white.

Ozai doesn’t deserve a funeral, or for his name to be remembered by anyone. He doesn’t deserve to be returned to the flame.

The perfect funeral for him would be to simply toss his body to sea, for no one to hold vigil, so his soul never makes it to the spirit world.

She lets Ty Lee dress her, and refuses to look in the mirror. This is for Zuko, Azula has decided. She will not shame him today. By some miracle, she manages to remain composed during the funeral. Beside her, Zuko is tense. She can see how tightly he is clenching his jaw. He’s probably longing for the comfort of Mai just as much as Azula wishes Ty Lee could stand beside her.

As Ozai’s body is set alight, Azula feels as if she might snap. Her fingers are curled into her fists so tightly, she knows she’s drawn blood but can’t bring herself to stop. In her chest, her heart is pounding, and it is so loud it is all she can hear. She shuts her eyes, for when she looks down, all she can see is the white of her clothes, and when she looks out at the crowd, it is a sea of white, a mass in mourning for her father who was nothing but a monster.

Her breath comes in sharp gasps, it feels as if she cannot breathe, it feels like she is _dying_ -

She falls to her knees before she can catch herself, and there are gasps from the crowd, but the Fire Sage performing the funeral rights does not stop, continues on and on, over her gasping.

Strong hands lift her to her feet, and she is nearly carried off the great stairs and into the palace, away from the eyes of all those in attendance, but Azula can’t even think of how this must look, how weak she must appear; she can only think that this is what dying feels like, that she can’t get a breath into her lungs. She is terrified.

Whoever had carried her in was trying to talk to her; a man, one of the stewards, addressing her respectfully, urgently, ordering for a healer. Another voice dismisses whatever is happening to her as female hysteria, and if she wasn’t so focused on trying to breathe, she would set that man on fire.

“Azula!”

Ty Lee’s voice carries through the hall, and then, Ty Lee is crouching before her, a hand on her shoulder, assuring her that she’s there. Azula lets herself be enveloped in a tight hug, and she wants to hug Ty Lee back, wants to grip her tight and know she is there, but her hands, they won’t unclench, they refuse to listen to her.

She doesn’t know how long Ty Lee holds her on the floor. Hours, maybe. For soon her gasps turn into sobs, and Ty Lee never stops stroking her hair, rubbing her back, never stops telling her that everything is okay. At some point, she knows she heard Zuko’s voice, heard some back and forth between him and Ty Lee. But when she finally lifts her head and opens her eyes, they are alone on the floor of the hall.

Her hands ache. She flexes her fingers; her palms are sticky from the blood dried there.

Ty Lee suggests a bath, and distantly, she feels herself nod. She is tired, spent, and knows that when she can finally feel something again, it will be the embarrassment of so many witnessing her in such a weak state. The numbness is welcome now.

Azula lets Ty Lee guide her to the baths, and the relief she feels when her funeral robes are removed is so welcoming.

She will never wear white again.

**Author's Note:**

> \- [My Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/soozenwrites) -


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